Mama, I'm in Love with a Criminal
by Emo Owl
Summary: Car thief Alex Ramsey is the girl your mother warned you about. Manipulative and vain, she destroyed every relationship she ever had, and didn't care enough to look back. She never thought she'd care about what she lost, but after getting sucked into a crime spree with the famous Toretto gang, she realizes her life might just be missing something. HanXOC
1. Chapter 1

**And that's where the beginning of the end begun**

**Everybody knew that we had too much fun**

**We were skippin' school and drinkin' on the job…with the boss**

**Z**

An outlaw in Mexico; the first thing that pops in people's mind is the burly bad guy in a Western with a bandana on his face and a bank bag in his hand galloping towards the border aboard a trusty steed with the hero hot on his heels. The reality? A tall, blonde ex-pageant queen in a stolen Mustang Boss with nothing to her name but the clothes on her back fleeing from a federal agent ex-boyfriend.

Most people found the fantasy version more believable. It made life a lot easier for me.

My story doesn't really start in Mexico; it goes all the way back to my hometown of Malibu, California. From the time I was a baby, my mother had put me in as many pageants as she could; she was living vicariously through me or something like that. She had always wanted a girl so she could dress her up as a doll and turn her into Miss America one day. By the time I was a teenager, I was winning massive titles. It was kind of the catalyst that started the downward spiral that led to me running. I was beautiful and I knew it-and so did the boys. I was a cocky bitch that thought she could get out of everything by showing a little leg.

I had a string of bad boys that introduced me to drugs, crime, and street racing. Being around them sent me on what my mother called a "downward spiral into the fiery depths of hell". I'd say it was more the path to my enlightenment.

If I hadn't made the series of bad relationship choices, then I never would have discovered my talent for boosting cars. It was my defining characteristic on the streets of Malibu; more people at the races knew me for that than my blonde hair, long legs, and ego. It was kind of shocking considering how much I flaunted the other things.

I felt like Queen Bitch, and I acted like it so much that people eventually started treating me like it. The confidence boost that provided me with made me feel like nothing would ever usurp me, and my actions started getting crazier and harder to hide. My family soon caught on to the fact that I was absolutely out of control and started threatening rehab, jail, and everything else under the sun that they thought would cure me. I could just picture my mom dragging me into as Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and saying "Hello, this is Charity Alexandra Ramsey and she's addicted to criminals and stealing cars." As funny as the image was, there was a massive chance of it coming true. In order to get her off of my back, I pretended to go straight for a little while; even started dating a nice guy that wore sweater vests his grandma had knitted for him and loved computers.

If there is one thing about my life in Malibu that I regret, it was ripping that boy's heart out. I was sophomore in college and he was a junior when we started dating. He had one of the top GPAs on campus and I would have been failing every class if I wasn't giving the male professors a good reason to pass me. By week three of our relationship I had him doing every assignment for me. In the free time I had gained, I went back to the races and to the racers, and, with my GPA steadily rising, my mother was none the wiser.

I'd like to say I just flirted with him every once in a while and let him do my homework for me, but I let it get so much further than that. Before I knew it, I was a junior and I was telling him I loved, that I one day I was going to marry him. He believed me, and not long after, he proposed and I agreed. He was head over heels in love, and I only tolerated him enough to get what I wanted out of him. The guilt broke my heart when he found out what was really going on; the truth destroyed his.

The pain changed him. He had always wanted to be a computer nerd for the FBI; his dream job soon changed to actual agent. He was determined to put people like me behind bars until the jail rotted on top of them. Needless to say, when a warrant was issued for my arrest after a Bentley got jacked, he was ecstatic.

My family had disowned me after the failed engagement, and none of the racers would protect me with him on my tail. With nowhere else to go, I headed south into the fabulous land of tequila, beaches, and no extradition-and straight into the man that took my criminal career to a whole new level.

**AN: So I know this looks similar to a story that I tried and failed to write twice, but the OC is drastically different and so is the plot. Let me know if she gets too Mary Sue; she's a little more complicated than some of the characters I've written before. **

**Lyrics- Lana Del Rey's This is What Makes Us Girls**


	2. Chapter 2

** Confidence is a must **

**Happiness is a plus **

**Edginess is a rush Edges **

**I like them rough**

**Z**

Race nights were my favorite nights. It brought so much color, noise, and energy an otherwise sterile and lifeless place. Don't get me wrong, Monterrey had its charm and character during every other normal time, but the races were something entirely different. They took a tame street of warehouses were blue-collared people worked their jobs, made their money, and then went home to their families and turned it into something wild and forbidden.

I could hear at least four different songs spilling out of high performance speakers competing to be heard as I pulled in. It was deafening; I could hear it over my own music. Girls with almost nothing on were dancing on cars, each other, or just swaying to the beat in various places throughout the area. At least four were in my usual parking space.

They shot me a glare as they slowly swayed their way out of my spot. I arched an eyebrow as I killed the engine, opened my door, and smoothly slid out. I felt their glares on my back as weaved in and out of the rows of parked cars. Conscious of the many pairs of eyes, I let my hips swing a little more.

I wasn't just doing that as a way to tell the haters I was hotter than them; they already knew that. Why else would they be so jealous? No, I was doing that to remind the boys.

If I said that their attention wasn't part of the reason I came here, I would be lying. If I said I didn't dress to catch their attention, then I would also be lying. I spent hours before a race getting ready; hair, nails, outfit, makeup—if it wasn't perfect, then I wasn't going. Tonight was no exception.

My golden blonde hair had been perfectly curled and left hanging to about half way down my bicep. I had done a silvery smoky eye with cat eye eyeliner and red lips. Deciding against the low cut tops I usually wore that showed off my surgeon helped breasts, I wore a super short, tight black leather shorts, a backless grey top that made up for being flowy by showing a little stomach, and a studded black heels. I carried a motorcycle jacket with me to block the wind if necessary.

Why did I spend so much time trying to impress the race rats? I wasn't sure. Not one of them actually interested me.

"Alejandra!" My head jerked around at the sound of my name—well, sort of my name.

A skinny Mexican guy with some weirdly ripped arms was waving at me from the hood of his Challenger. I could see his bright smile under his mustache from all the way across the street. For some reason, that made me smile too.

"Wondered when your scrawny ass was going to show up, Diego." I called as I strolled over. His guffawing laugh answered.

"Me scrawny? Chica, take a look at your waist!" He yelled as he gestured at me. I puffed out my chest proudly as his gesture caught the attention of some fellow racers and their eyes were drawn to my body. "I like my girls with a little more meat." Something about the way he was staring told me he was lying.

"You got something for me, or did you just call me over to get a closer look?" I changed the subject after I grew bored of the silence that followed his jibe.

"Yeah, mami. Guy needs some help jacking a Bentley." He told me as he tugged at the bottom of his oversized t-shirt.

"Who's he stealing from that they have a Bentley?" I asked curiously as I leaned on the shiny hood of his car. His lips thinned in annoyance at me sitting on his car, but he didn't protest.

"You'll have to ask him tomorrow." He told me as he pulled out his phone. "I'm texting you the address."

"He here now?" I asked.

"I don't know. Just talked to him over the phone." He answered mildly. He couldn't see the scowl spreading over my painted lips because he was too busy watching two race skanks grind on each other. That meant he was completely unprepared when I punched him in the neck.

"Shit Girl! Have you lost your damn mind?" He swore as he rubbed the spot where my fist made contact.

"You didn't check this guy out first? You moron!" I snapped.

"He's good!" His voice rose as he countered back.

"Last guy you sent me to without checking him out confused me for a call girl; you'd better hope he's good!" He looked me up and down as if to say that maybe that was partially my fault, but when he saw the look on my face, he wisely chose not to voice that thought.

"I know who he runs with. Plus, with a temper like yours, I think you'll be fine." He muttered the last part as rubbed the mark on his neck.

We descended into an awkward silence; his attention was entirely focused on the sluts that were making out and I was left to stare at the rows of cars. They were all impressive, but I'd seen them all before many, many times. All of them except for one. On the corner of a row, a grey Plymouth Road Runner that I'd never seen before caught my eye. I raised an eyebrow as I looked it over. Flat paint, still had some body work to be done, but not that bad.

A quick glance at Diego revealed that he was not going to be much fun from here on out; he had joined the two girls and now had one on each arm. With nothing better to do, I wandered over to check out the new ride.

Up close it didn't as polished as other driver's cars. Possibly a new acquisition, maybe; the guy just got it and didn't have time to clean it up. Or, all of his time and energy went into what was under the hood. I looked around to see where its owner was. A quick glance revealed the nearest driver was four cars a way; as this guy preferred Hondas to classic Detroit muscle, it was a safe bet that he wouldn't go for a car like this. That might explain why he'd never won a race.

With no one there to see, I reached down and unlatched the hood. Underneath, a massive, brand new engine gleamed brightly. Whoever owned this put a lot of love into his engine. Impulsively, I gingerly reached out to run my fingers over the warm metal.

"Like it?" A deep voice droned behind me.

"It'll do." I answered smoothly; hard to do when your heart was in your throat. Who did this guy think he was sneaking up on people? Then again, who did I think I was popping random people's hoods?

I let the hood close as I stood up straight. The guy was standing so close to me I could feel his body heat through the open back of my shirt. Unfazed by his closeness, I turned around to face him. He wasn't quite what I was expecting. He was a tall Asian man with broad shoulders and chest muscles that showed through his v-neck shirt that was just a bit too tight. His short, dark hair was slicked back on the sides with a little bit of gel. He was attractive; good cheekbones, smooth, tan skin, dark eyes, full lips that were gorgeous even if they were a little small.

"You into American muscle?" He asked casually his full lips pulled into a cocky smirk.

"I certainly prefer it to that dumbass's Honda." I answered as I nodded to the racer four cars over who was gossiping to a group of people. I hated that guy; no taste in cars and he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

The stranger chuckled as he followed my gaze. "What are you, a critic?"

"I know what I like." I answered flirtily. His smirk grew.

"I do too." He replied, suggestively glancing down.

"Does that work on all the girls?" I asked him. I was slightly impressed; most guys here skipped the innuendo and went straight for grabbing asses. He shrugged.

"I usually just let them come to me." He replied honestly. I made a show of looking both directions.

"Looks like you aren't having the best night."

"I'd say I'm doing just fine."

I opened my mouth to reply, but was cut off by Diego yelling across the crowd.

"Cops! Cops! Cops!" A few people glanced over at him, but most just panicked and rushed for their rides. Sirens could be heard approaching quickly.

"See ya, stranger." I told him before stepping into the frantic crowd and hurrying to the Mustang. When I made it back to my car, I risked a glance back. He was leaning on his open door giving me the same cocky smirk. I returned it before getting in and speeding away, just as the cops descended onto our little back street.

As I turned down the next street and watched the red and blue lights behind me, I found myself hoping I bumped into him again; out of all the guys I met at the races, he might be the first that was my type.

**AN: So I should be packing for college, but after seeing the trailer for Bullet to the Head I decided to finish this. Sung Kang looks like he finally has some good screen time and fight scenes. It's worth checking out.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Please keep them coming. I have a constant worry of being OOC or Mary Sue; if anyone spots it, please let me know.**

**Lyrics- Radar- Britney Spears **


	3. Chapter 3

"This better go better than it did last time." I threatened into my phone as I pulled my Mustang onto a dirt road. I was forced to slow as the wheels hit bumps and mini gullies carved out by the hurricanes and heavy trucks.

"Calm down, mami. So untrusting." Diego droned in a bored tone of voice.

"I just can't believe you are sending me out to some random guy that you met on the phone." I snapped.

"Nag, nag, nag." He mocked. "I told you before, I know the people he runs with. They wouldn't take him if he was the type of guy to treat you like a call girl. This is business, and he'll treat it like business."

"He'd better." I muttered as I hung up.

After I crested a hill, a building finally became visible on the barren landscape. It was a simple structure; one story, gray concrete block with two garage doors. Both doors were standing open to let in some air. It looked completely normal and average; I wasn't sure what I was expecting, maybe some run down little bar or some shady shack. If this guy was in with the master criminals Diego was in awe off, I was expecting him to be conducting something a little more extraordinary.

_Well, I guess I'm living proof not to judge a book by its cover. _ I thought as I swung my Mustang off the road without slowing and then braked to a hard stop. I was half expecting a little family man that worked a nine to five job to feed his wife and kids to run out to access my problem.

Hesitantly, I opened my door and swung my legs out. My boots crunched on the red dirt of the parking lot as I stood. The thud of my heavy car door closing echoed against the building. Despite the noise, nothing stirred. I felt like I was the only living thing around aside from a lizard scuttling away from me, and that made me very nervous. The only thing I could see inside the grimy little garage was a dust covered Chevelle on a jack and a few tool chests.

"Diego said you were trustworthy." I called out.

"He also said you were untrusting." A familiar voice called back. My eyebrows raised as I moved closer, stepping into the shade cast by the garage. Now that my eyes were adjusting, I could make out a pair of booted feet sticking out from under the Chevelle. "But I guess a girl that looks like you has reason to be."

"This is just business. We steal what you need, then part ways." I told him bluntly.

A somewhat charged silence descended between us. I could feel my shoulder muscles tensing a little bit as I waited for him to reply; I had had some issues with guys that didn't want to do business with a woman in the past, and I definitely wasn't sure how this guy would react to me. For all I knew, Diego was stupidly setting me up to work with a cartel grunt and I was going to wind up murdered in a ditch. Shit like that had been known to happen.

A full minute had passed before he slid out from under the car and stood up. As much as I wanted this to remain strictly professional, my eyes slid down to his sweat drenched torso. He had on a plain white undershirt, but it was clinging to his well-developed chest muscles, which were flexing as he stretched out his stiff muscles. A smirk was pulling at his full lips, and I knew I'd been caught staring.

"We case the place tonight, then we hit it tomorrow night." He informed me as he leaned back against the car and played with the wrench in his hands.

"Bentley?" I asked.

"Change of plans. My client has decided that he would prefer a Mercedes." He sounded sarcastic as he told me the last bit. The guy was probably being an ass to work with.

"Older model, or are we having to deal with the laser key?" I asked as I strode into the garage and took a seat on a folding metal chair like I owned the place.

"Older, though Diego tells me that if anyone could hack a laser key, it would be you." He replied smoothly as left the bumper he was leaning on and replaced his wrench in a tool chest against the opposite wall. His nose scrunched in disgust as his fingers touched the gritty dust layer covering the outside of the drawer.

"Diego says a lot of things, but that doesn't make them true." I returned slowly. "Whose place is this exactly? I can tell it's not yours."

His eyebrows raised at my assessment, but he said nothing. Instead of replying, he grabbed a rag off a work bench and wiped down his hands. After unceremoniously tossing the now dirty cloth over his shoulder, he made his way over to a cooler shoved in the corner. He pulled two beers out of the ice before finally taking the chair opposite me.

"Name's Han by the way." He told me as he handed me one of them.

"Alex." I muttered as twisted off the cap and took a long swig.

We settled into a comfortable silence together; I let myself lean back in my chair and relax with my beer as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. I took this time to size him up. He wasn't the typical type of guy that I was used to seeing in Monterrey. He was Asian American, for one; most of the American's I saw here were rich white kids vacationing from college, and those were few and far between. He was also beautiful; that was a fact that I was trying ridiculously hard to ignore and was failing. It didn't help that he had the steady confidence and flirty innuendo that, for some reason, I found so attractive. I was curious to see if that confidence carried over into the job.

We sat there relaxing in each other's company until the shadows were getting long and the sun no longer streamed through the windows. The only bright spot of light was the end of his cigarette. I started stirring again as I watched the sun disappear completely behind the horizon and the red streaks in the sky it left behind were starting to darken.

"I'm hungry." Han blurted as he stood suddenly. My own stomach growled at the thought of hot food.

"You got a place in mind?"

Z

Loud Spanish music poured through the open door of a little neighborhood taco shop. Laughter and happy conversations added into the din. My mouth began to water the second I stepped out of my Mustang as the smell of home cooked food hit my nose.

"How did you find this place?" I asked Han as he stepped out of his side of the car. He shrugged as he tossed away his cigarette.

The restaurant was down a series of winding back streets nestled in the heart of a residential area. It was a cute little building that looked so warm and inviting. Judging by delicious smells, the food wasn't bad either. I couldn't wait to go inside and find out.

A few waiters standing outside smoking glanced up at our approach; one looked me up at down approvingly. I shot him a flirty smirk as we passed.

"I bet if you keep doing that, they'll let us eat for free." Han deadpanned quietly as strolled in and took a table. With a huff, I followed him and sat down.

Within seconds, I busty waitress with a lot of mascara was setting menus in front of us. I didn't miss the way she leaned over to give Han his. She made sure to put him eye level with her breasts. As she leaned up, she licked her lips and tossed him wink before seductively telling him to ask if he needed _anything at all_. She then threw me a glare and strutted off.

"If I keep doing that, big boy?" I mocked. He shrugged with a smirk as he looked over the menu.

"Some just have a gift." He offered after a moment. I chuckled.

"Not that chick. Too desperate." I muttered.  
"She knows how to get what she wants; she'd just never have anything past the first night." He answered smoothly. I looked at him questioningly over my menu.

"You can get what you want, not have to see the person again, and still not act like that." I informed him.

"That's not the way you do things though." He replied with a wise, all knowing tone.

"How do I do things then?" I asked him arrogantly as I returned to my menu.

"You like a man that shows you off like a prize. You like to be looked at and envied. You might screw him a men's room stall once and then be done with him like that chick, but you have enough pride to make it after you've shown yourself off enough to make everyone jealous." He assessed without looking up.

"A quickie in a men's room stall? Really?" I asked scathingly. He chuckled.

"Spontaneity not your thing?" He teased. I opened my mouth to utter a smart ass reply when the slutty waitress returned with some cheese dip. We ordered, and she took our menus with more thinly veiled sexual remarks, before prissing off.

"Spontaneity, sure, but I do like a guy that tries a little harder to impress than that." I told through a mouthful of tortilla chip.

"High maintenance." He joked.

"Standards." I corrected.

We lapsed into another silence as we waited for the waitress to bring our food. With her eagerness to impress my companion, it didn't take long. She showed up with another, equally slutty looking girl in tow, who was ogling Han just as much as she was. I watch them stand together giggling against the back wall after they had retreated with their tray.

"So, do you have fan clubs everywhere you go, or is this place just special?" I asked as I bit into my enchilada. He glanced back at the two women with a smirk, before fixing his soul searching dark eyes back on me.

"I could ask you the same question; the waiters been staring at your legs the entire time we've been here." He commented smoothly.

I glanced around before my eyes landed on the same guy from the door who was indeed staring at my outstretched legs that were very exposed by my cut offs as he scraped dirty dishes off a table into a bin. I played with the leather bracelets on my arm as I watched him a little before I turned my attention back to Han.

"A lot of guys here think I'm a spring breaker that got lost looking for the beach." I told him bluntly. "No one guess what I really do, and I like it that way."

"Are you a mechanic?" Han asked conversationally between bites.

"Not really. I know my way around an engine a little, but I've always preferred stealing them." I told him honestly.

"Do you race?" He asked.

"A bit, but not often." He nodded, and went back to eating. "Do you?"

He chewed slowly as he thought about it.

"If it's important." He finally responded.

"What's your version of important?" I pressed. His eyebrows rose. "It's different to some people." I defended.

"Maybe one day you'll find out." He dodged the question.

"Oh, I doubt it. I'm not sticking around." I told him.

"Never said I was." He replied cryptically.

"So how tight's the security?" I changed the subject.

"Political official. He's got money." He answered.

"How'd you pick the target?" I asked.

"I have friends." He told me smoothly.

"National registry?" I filled in. He nodded.

"We probably need to leave. We'll need as much information as possible, because he definitely has guards." I decided as I showed the remainder of my enchilada in my mouth graceless. Han finished off his beer and stood up to leave, gesturing for me to follow.

I raised my hands at him to ask if we were dining and dashing, but he pulled some money out of his back pocket and tossed in on the table. With that taken care off, he ushered me out into the night.

** AN: Sorry it's taking so long to update. I've lived in the library this semester and my depression has come back full force. I've had to find new ways to deal with it because I don't have time to write, but I'm getting better now. **

**Can anyone think of a song? I couldn't find a quote for this chapter.**


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